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 Posted: Sun Sep 27, 2009 8:25 pm
"So," said L'ior, tilting his head to think for a moment, "you haven't been here overlong, then? But then, I see why Ista is overcrowded." Amused, L'ior lifted one hand, rubbing at the nape of his own neck as he looked around at the room, then gestured toward the outside, waving as if to encompass the whole island. "It's simply... beautiful here. And not quite so dry, and things seem a little bit less... ridiculous. It's one of my favorite places to visit, though admittedly some of the more northern places are wonderful in the winter too. Dioth doesn't much like the snow, but I do. It's rather different from sand and sun, after all."
Draining the dregs of his tea, L'ior put the cup back down onto the table with a soft thump, scooting it back toward the other after a moment with a gentle nudge of long fingers. "... I hesitate to ask, but what sort of thing do you mean by creative? Other than eating fish that hasn't seen anything warmer than sunshine and flinging nails at one's own face?" He rather thought that he'd had a few mishaps the other would either like to hear about, or would simply shake his head and lose all trace of respect for him. L'ior would simply keep his mouth shut on this one. Prudence was a good thing in some situations, he thought.
"There are... worse things. But it... is very unfair," agreed L'ior softly, biting his lip a bit. "But people like me, we can't do much to change things, though I'd never shun a female greenrider, myself. The dragon chooses, and the rider follows, and I know that for a fact."
That smile brought a rather genuine, pleased one from L'ior. "I'm enjoying talking to you, too, Cordel. You're a pleasant break from the craziness, I think." He drew a deep breath, and looked directly up at the other, rather straightforwardly happy.
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Posted: Sun Sep 27, 2009 9:33 pm
The Healer actually had to think about how long he’d been there. It didn’t feel like very long, but looking back… “Probably about a turn and a half, maybe two turns. I came here shortly after the flu outbreak, since they needed more Healers on hand and I needed a chance from High Reaches. Snow is all very well, but it gets boring. Fast. Besides, I was very interested in studying parasites at the time.” Still was, actually, as L’ior probably already figured out.
Retrieving the cup of tea, Cordel put it to one side to be washed out later. He had two Apprentices to do the washing up now, and he felt totally justified in telling them to do so. Usually. Unless something was actually happening, in which case he’d probably just rage at them for doing something so useless during an emergency. “Hm? Oh, you don’t want to know what people do to themselves,” he reassured L’ior. “I’ll tell you just this: there is very little in this world that someone, somewhere, won’t try to stick in some orifice. But one of the worst things we had to deal with was when some idiot Candidate touched a clutch just a few days after it was laid. That was a disaster. Worst maulings I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen a few.”
So, really. In comparison, accidentally slicing open his face with a nail was completely tame. At least it only courted an accidental infection and not a sort of ‘hey, hold my wine’ mentality.
“Ah. That’s the problem with people. They get attached to a system that seems to work well enough so they never bother changing it, no matter how it might hurt others,” the Healer said, speaking as a man with a desk so ancient that it could only be accurately aged by counting the rings in its thick layer of dust. Heh. L’ior actually had a pretty nice smile.
Welp! Time to get back to work or, failing that, thinking up new ways to sneak past Mirelle. Cordel’s latest plan included dark clothing, a secret passageway, and possibly a bandanna. He wasn’t certain if a bandanna would help, but it probably wouldn’t hurt. “Well, I’m sure you have more deliveries to make and you’ll be missed back at Igen. And I’ve got to get those boxes down here.”
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Posted: Sun Sep 27, 2009 11:10 pm
"Well, if you are contented here, I suppose it doesn't matter how long you've been here, hm? I'm a man of the sand," quipped L'ior with a laugh, "and the Weyr. As much as the snow is pleasant, I could never see myself there for long. I would turn into an icicle."
The story about the maulings at the Hatching, however, made L'ior's stomach do a small, sick flip-flop as he recalled the two separate ones that had given him the scars he still wore on his chest and leg today. His nose wrinkled, and he looked a bit shocked, though. Why would anyone touch a clutch of eggs before they'd hardened? The thought was a bit stunning, but then, he supposed every Weyr had their troublemakers... "I can't imagine what might take hold of a Candidate to make them think that would be a good idea," the rider replied, shaking his head. "But I do hope those that suffered for it are all right now." Absently, one hand rose to touch the old scars across his breastbone through his riding clothes, then dropped. He retrieved his gloves, and began to pull them back on to busy his hands.
"For the most part," murmured L'ior, "we are used to it." Now-gloved hands began to brush hair back behind his ears, tucking the dark softness away from his features. He drew in a breath. The Healer was right; he did have things to do, and he'd still chores to do back in the Weyr. It was with reluctance that the rider began to rise from his seat, turning his head to peer at the napping flit on his shoulder, and losing into the seat of the chair the faded scarlet bandanna that had bound his braid at the end. He did not notice, busy tucking the remainder of his lunch into the bag at his hip, and then nudging the chair back under the table with the toe of one boot. "You're right, of course." L'ior could feel the laziness of Dioth's mind at the edge of his own, drowsing in the tropical sunshine. It drew a chuckle out of him. "And if I do not leave soon, I'll never rouse Dioth from his nap, and you'll never pry your little one off my flight jacket."
Wake up, lazybones, sent L'ior affectionately toward the great, dozey presence in his mind. We are going to leave in a few moments. I am coming soon.
I am not asleep, L'iormine, objected Dioth, drowsily. But the sunshine here is pleasant. And your package is still safe.
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Posted: Sun Sep 27, 2009 11:34 pm
“Personally, I think she was just drunk and seventeen. The phrases are often synonomous with bad decision-making. Who knows? Maybe she was just trying to impress a boy? Or maybe even a girl? Those are my theories, anyway. All of those who have been mauled are healed up well enough now. It was almost a turn ago. Judging from the influx of mindhealers, though, the… less physical wounds have yet to heal.” That was a bit of a sore point with Cordel. He hated the simple fact that there were many things he couldn’t heal and never would be able to.
Since it felt like the polite thing to do, he got up as well, to at least walk L’ior back to the crates. And why not? He needed to pick up the crates anyway. That and he needed to reclaim poor Tribble before she woke up in a world of sand. “At least she would see some new places if you were to take her with you,” he pointed out with that smile again. He had a good smile; an ever-emotional man, Cordel was not someone who believed in doing things in bits and pieces. It was all or nothing. His expressions were similar. All or nothing.
“Right, let me just get Tribble there.” Cordel moved forward, but it turned out it was unnecessary. Tribble jerked awake at L’ior’s last chuckle with a startled ‘Rrrp!’ and promptly panicked. With her little wings whiring, the firelizard launched herself off of L’ior’s shoulder. There was no grace in the movement. Flying bricks had slightly more grace than the distressed flit. It wasn’t so much a ‘flight’ as a ‘directed fall with forward motion’. In this case, it was directed at Cordel’s arm. She landed heavily and scrambled her way to the Healer’s shoulder, all the time making her little worried Rrrps.
“Poor baby…” Cordel murmured quietly, giving her a pet. “Look, L’ior didn’t eat you when you were asleep. He’s hardly going to eat you when you’re awake. I’m sure the little bones would be obnoxious. Well, L’ior, let me walk you back to your dragon.” Without really waiting for an answer, the Healer started to lead the way out, back into the complicated maze of Ista Weyr.
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Posted: Mon Sep 28, 2009 12:34 am
"Seventeen in general, I've found," said L'ior with a wry smile, "is often bad enough for poor decisions, without drink involved. With it, well, all hope for good choices is sometimes lost." He trod gently on that territory, gingerly, not wanting to stuff his foot into a wound; he could recall how many times things simply went bad at Hatchings, for no reason other than ill-tempered hatchlings, or wherryheaded Candidates, and how it could set the tone for a very long time.
"Indeed she would," said L'ior, and he couldn't help feeling a warm happiness at that smile. "Perhaps she could indeed come and visit Dioth and I sometime," he teased. "Though I rather think she would not do so without you." The happy rider's voice canted up, affable and pleased, though he couldn't help a bleat of warm, open laughter at the clumsy kick off his shoulder, reaching over. The shoulder felt a little light, now, and he found he missed the warm little weight a bit, though he didn't say as much.
"You're right, though. I'd hardly bother with such a tiny snack... though I imagine she'd be as sweet as her character," said L'ior with a chuckle, and began to follow behind the Healer, letting himself be led through the Weyr since he rather thought he'd lose his way otherwise. "When I come back, I'll bring her something a bit easier to eat than a meatroll. I wonder if she'll remember me?"
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Posted: Mon Sep 28, 2009 6:48 pm
“You know, you have a point there. Although I’m of the opinion that most people stop growing up around that age. After that, we’re just pretending to be adults.” Course, some people stopped growing up even sooner, as K’em was a case in point. And other people were practically born a billion years old, like W’ten, only without the beard. “Course, they say that making a lot of mistakes is how you grow up. I say it only works that way if people learn from mistakes.”
Naturally, Cordel thought his own decisions at 17 had been pretty good. Well, maybe not all of them. But most of them. The Healer briefly paused to imagine just what traveling to Igen would be like. Somehow, he doubted that L’ior would be pleased to find a vomiting man on his weyrstep. “Noo… I don’t think you really mean that,” he said slowly. “Also, I’m fairly certain Tribble would just panic if she had to travel anywhere. Maybe one day I’ll get a good messenger flit to Igen though. Or a runner, if necessary.” Then he remembered that stopping in the middle of a hallway was sort of a really stupid idea and kept walking.
“Oh, Tribble? Probably not. It generally takes her a while to learn how to recognize a person. Took her about a week to get used to people she sees every day. Incidentally, she likes wherry.” In time, the two men re-emerged into the sun, Cordel blinking slightly against the sudden light. He wasn’t a man used to venturing out too often, except to the ground weyrs. Naturally, the crates were still there, looking as innocent as anything, despite the grievous injuries inflicted on poor L’ior.
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Posted: Mon Sep 28, 2009 8:39 pm
"I'm pretty sure I haven't grown up since I was seventeen." It was true. Then again, L'ior did tend to forget the whole 'learn from your mistakes' bit. Sheepishly, the rider scratched at the back of his head, with an awkward grin. "Maybe not even before then... But I guess I do make a bunch of mistakes, so I'm learning just fine, I guess?"
When the other paused, L'ior very nearly bumped into his back, having been preoccupied with the realization of his own foolishness. "Well, that would be fine," said the rider amiably, and shrugged without much grace at all as Cordel continued walking, and he gave a rather pleasant, easy smile. "It is not as if it's hard for me to come here. Though a way to let me know when was all right would help, too. Perhaps one of these days I'll lay hands on a flit myself for such a thing... though I'm thinking that's rather unlikely. Dioth is quite a lot to care for, I think..."
The sun was a welcome addition as they left the shadows of the Weyr, to L'ior at least; the bluerider lifted his face as the light poured over it, and sighed with a grin. "Well, if she fancies wherry, then I shall bring her some, and chirp for her," he chuckled, "and perhaps she'll recall that." From here, L'ior could see Dioth, and he grinned broadly. The dragon had curled up in a full-fledged nap, though he still patiently bore the straps holding the crates to his sides. "Great lazy creature..." There was a tender fondness in his tone and he broke into a full-fledged beam as they moved across the yard toward the dragon's side. "Though, admittedly, Dio enjoys wherry too."
Despite the fuss, the little wound on the rider's jaw seemed to be scabbing over already -- and his braid was starting to loosen in the absence of the lost tie.
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Posted: Mon Sep 28, 2009 11:01 pm
“It’s possible you’ll get a firelizard some day. Quite possible.” Not that Cordel was admitting anything, but he figured that he’d have to have some sort of plan in the future for Tribble’s clutches. It would happen eventually, right? Since his two friends already had firelizards (and he was pretty certain K’em would explode from sheer fear if he got another one), Cordel had to find someone else to give a flit to. If he was lucky and Tribble turned out to be a halfway decent mother, or if Cordel was just quick enough at finding the eggs.
The Healer smirked a little at the sleeping blue, trying not to think about how adorable it was. It was like looking at a giant version of Tribble, who tended to sleep in a tiny curled-up ball. It was a battle that was lost long before he even attempted to fight it, however, and he couldn’t help but point out the obvious. “Sleeping dragons always look so innocent. Hmm… Tribble does seem to have a better memory for sounds than anything else. Who knows? Maybe she will remember. You better hope she doesn’t remember that there was no flit, otherwise she’ll just drop her treats down your shirt again.”
Speaking of the firelizard… at the sound of her name, the green chirped curiously at the sight of the big blue. Dragons were, more or less, terrifying to her. Of course, so were things that cast a shadow, things that existed, and things that didn’t exist. Oh, and things that didn’t cast a shadow. But a sleeping dragon seemed safe enough, especially since Cordel assured her that he was safe.
Cordel wandered over to the half-opened crate and pried it open the rest of the way, just enough to make sure that there actually was whole glass in there. “It all looks good in this one,” he said. “Course, if anything actually is broken, you’ll just have to come back sooner. Sounds like a win-win situation to me.”
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Posted: Tue Sep 29, 2009 1:17 am
"Well," said L'ior with a winning, rather cheery little smile at the thought of having his own little tiny companion, "and that'd be an adventure, wouldn't it?" He could just recall Dioth and how needy the little blue dragonet had been -- oil me here, feed me, can we nap for several candlemarks? It was enough to make the rider chuckle as he ran his gaze along the sleepy curl of blue hide currently gleaming in the sun, striding back toward the great head. Gently, he reached out, rubbing flight-gloved fingers along the headknobs in an affectionate caress, one which the dozey beast leaned into with a low, contented rumble that he could feel vibrating up to his fingers.
"They do, actually... like they should be rather smaller than they are, I think," mused L'ior aloud as he continued the gentle rubbing, letting the Healer finally inspect the goods he'd delivered properly without the fear of L'ior's joints freezing up on contact with some sort of infection. The comment about the treats, though, brought another full-throated laugh, and he wrinkled his nose with amusement. "Hah! That reminds me, I do still have a bit of meat roll somewhere floating in the depths of my shirt. I'll discover it tonight when I bathe, no doubt, and think of her fondly when I do."
Lazily, Dioth held quite placidly still, half-dozing; beneath the lids, his eyes whirled shades of contented, rich blues and greens. The dainty little chirping and squeaking so near to him, however, roused him a bit, and he turned an eye in her direction, peering at them, and communicating drowsy amusement as he began to climb back to full consciousness. Are we leaving soon, L'iormine? asked Dioth lazily.
Shortly, came the reply, once we finally get these packages down off of you. After another gentle scritch along Dioth's eyeridges, L'ior returned to the packages. "I'm glad things look right," said the rider, laughingly, "though I admit this may well be the first time I'm hoping we did thump one or two of them around, as an excuse!" His voice was cheerful -- perhaps even a bit hopeful -- as he stood on tiptoes, to begin unfastening the straps that held the boxes onto Dioth's riding gear, tugging at them until they came loose and he could carefully lift the opened one free, placing the crate onto the ground with a smile and heading around to the other side to fetch the other. "Though they're packed right tightly, so I think most of them will be safe and fit for use."
Giving a little huff of effort, L'ior placed the second crate down beside the first, gingerly as he could though the contents gave a protesting rattle, and straightened up. "One way or another, since you can hardly check them all now," he reasoned with a sideways, slightly impish smile, "you'll have to send a message, as a report on the quality, hm?"
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Posted: Tue Sep 29, 2009 6:22 pm
Occasionally---very occasionally---Cordel found himself feeling jealous of the bond that existed between dragon and rider. His father had always claimed there was nothing else like it. It was just a pure sense of knowing, of belonging right where you were. Everything was perfect, in just one shining moment. Admittedly, things became less than perfect once you realized how much care the partner required but, and this was the magical part, you simply didn’t care. At least the Healer could understand some of that. When he was on the trail of something, nothing else mattered. Just the joy of being. Still, that bond…
Well, he had left his chances. Besides, he had Tribble, didn’t he? As if sensing her human’s vague sadness, Tribble bumped her head against his cheek with a quiet coo of a noise. Cordel responded with a head rub, which rather felt like a sad imitation of L’ior and Dioth. Ah well. Cordel wasn’t the sort to stand around and regret things, especially not when there was work to be done. He’d never get anything done if he stood around and regretted something. While L’ior worked on getting the packages down safely, the Healer made himself useful by checking the small vials.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about any cracks. There are almost always cracks and, if that’s not the issue, I’ll find something wrong with it.” It was unclear whether or not this was meant to be a compliment. But Cordel was smiling, so it was probably positive. Or mostly positive. “As soon as I can find someone with a firelizard that can travel to Igen, I’ll send you a report. Or, failing that, I’ll just send a runner. Or wait until someone’s going in the right direction and just pray they don’t eat the mail or whatever they usually do with it.”
Which reminded him… “Oh right. That reminds me… if you have stomach trouble while taking that mosstea, have some yogurt. It should do some good. I know, a little late to comment on it now but…” better late than never, right? “And remember, if there’s any neck or jaw trouble, get to a Healer immediately. Or else I’ll have to send a report on that too and you don’t want Healers to start talking to each other.”
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Posted: Tue Sep 29, 2009 7:47 pm
Lazily, like a small, furless feline, L'ior gave a stretch, and leaned against Dioth's side while he watched Cordel go through some of the vials, finding himself happy and contented and actually somewhat excited for later, wearing a smile not only on his mouth but in his gaze. He was not admitting it yet, but the other's smile was rather infectious, and made him happy, too. "If you do find something, I'll come flying in with help," chuckled L'ior, crossing his arms over his chest with a pleased, amused tone heavy in his mild voice. "Though I may have to fight for the delivery. I'm all right with that." Surprisingly enough. Ordinarily, the easy-going rider would have simply let someone else take it, but not this one. "That's an amusing thought, though -- I should hope no one would get so hungry as to eat our mail, hm? Unless you're using greens and berries for stationery."
Which reminded L'ior that though he'd tried to feed Tribble, he hadn't eaten his own lunch. His stomach rumbled with an audibly grumpy sound, and he chuckled as he was warned, one big hand spanning his own flat belly. "Hah! Well, I usually have an iron stomach, so I'll hope it doesn't act up, since that might be a bother. I'm not going to worry overmuch about it, but I shall take that advice to heart -- and I shall inform the Healers when I finish with my deliveries, so you don't have to worry about that either." Reaching out, the rider patted Cordel on the shoulder with a smile. "I'm quite sure I'll heal, since I had such expert care. Did you need help getting them inside?"
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Posted: Tue Sep 29, 2009 10:05 pm
Briefly, Cordel considered exactly how many times people had ever considered fighting over him. Or fighting over a favor for him. He could count the instances on… uhh… actually, just no hands. It had never happened before and now that L’ior was apparently offering, Cordel wasn’t certain how to handle it. It wasn’t entirely unheard of for the Healer to be off-balance; being a Healer meant dealing with the unexpected. But this… well, this was more like expecting a frontal attack and then realizing that there’s something happening behind you. There was no way he could stop himself from looking surprised and almost a little embarrassed.
But it didn’t last long and Cordel was back to normal. He snorted. “Somehow, I doubt that there’ll be a whole lot of competition. This might come as a surprise to you, but charm isn’t exactly a strong point of mine. Somehow, it got skipped over in lessons.” Still, it was awfully flattering, in a strange sort of way.
“You know, you could always stop for another hour or two, or at least long enough to eat. I could even write you a note, just to excuse you from whatever else you’ve got to do,” he commented, having heard the stomach growl. Either that or L’ior just had an unusual sore throat or something.
Wait, expert care? And patting Cordel on the shoulder? Wow, the things that Cordel hadn’t had to deal with in a long time were really piling up here… he shifted for a moment, looking almost awkward. “No, I’ll be fine. If anything’s too heavy, I’ll go and harass someone into helping out.”
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Posted: Tue Sep 29, 2009 10:36 pm
L'ior looked a touch surprised, dark brows arching a little as he took note of the change in Cordel's expression. That was new... was L'ior doing something wrong? "Well, you've been quite pleasant with me," he said with an easy shrug. "I've only my own experiences to go on, after all, and you've been good to talk to. You've more patience with my oddities than I'm used to." Which was the truth. Often enough, unless they wanted him to take over a shift or do a chore for them, people tended to shoo him off like a particularly large fly. There was little patience in Igen for people with no real ambition, after all. It was refreshing, this way, and grinning a bit, L'ior absently smoothed his hair back from his face again.
"Well, I don't want to be a bother..." he said, feeling slightly unsure of himself, considering. "I've already held you up from your work for what's probably too long." L'ior's hands withdrew and gloved fingers rose to tug at the copper ring in one ear, half-hidden in the soft drape of his black hair. It was a bad habit he had, but one he'd been doing for a rather long time -- since the ring had been put there, which was a good fifteen Turns. It was subconscious by now, a gesture of indecisiveness. "I am rather hungry, though," the rider admitted.
I am in no hurry, L'iormine, came Dioth's tone, layered with gentle amusement, though certainly not judgmental. That was the one problem with the connection between rider and dragon -- one's partner knew everything, and that was the bottom line. L'ior was used to being pushed about, had even accepted it as his lot for the most part.
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Posted: Tue Sep 29, 2009 11:19 pm
“Well, you’ve caught me on a good day,” the Healer admitted with a slight shrug. “I just got a crate-load of new toys, I’m working towards a possible cure, and the only injury today was a slight scratch on your face. It’s been a quiet day.” Surprisingly quiet, actually. Hmm. Now Cordel was slightly suspicious about that… was it possible that La was deliberately trying to keep all the ‘little cases’ away from him? She had this thing about keeping him away from cases she felt weren’t worth his attention. Well, he’d be angry and rage at her later for that.
“And the only work you’re keeping me away from is some filing which I’m pretty happy to avoid. You’re doing me a favor. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll call it ‘patient aftercare’. It’s a fancy term meaning ‘making sure everything is alright even after you’ve been treated’.” Aka, please let Cordel avoid the Infirmary’s paperwork for just a little longer.
He recognized that look of indecisiveness and hesitated only a little before moving in. “Besides, it’s about time for my lunch anyway. If I don’t take a lunch break, one of my Apprentices will try to broom me out of the office and that is not pleasant. Really, I should just take the sharding thing away from her, but I don’t have the heart for that. That and I can’t figure out where she hides the fardling thing.”
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Posted: Wed Sep 30, 2009 12:16 am
Though he didn't expect it, the invitation made L'ior rather happy, and relief showed on the rider's face. His uncertain mood seemed to slip upward. He had been worried about taking up too much time, after all; had the day been a busy one, he would have excused himself quietly. "Well, I'm glad I came today, then," asserted L'ior. "It seems I'm a lucky one, and helpful at that, as well as well-timed." On occasion he was one of the three, but never all of them at once -- this was indeed a rare enough day for him.
"I will most gladly play excuse for you -- and I shall take that phrase as my own excuse." Eyes crinkling at the corners with a rather amused grin, L'ior gave a little bow of feigned acquiescence, as though he'd been pushed into it, though the gratefulness in his gaze belied that. "If the Healer says my wound requires such a thing, then who am I to refuse his company over lunch?" The rider was always happy enough for an excuse to have a companion, and with pleasant ones, he did tend to linger.
"You shouldn't overwork yourself," he hummed, crossing his arms in a comfortable motion. "Taking a break on occasion is necessary -- at least, that's a point Dioth has been trying to make to me for several Turns. I think I've almost got it figured out, though I get chased out of the kitchens plenty often by cooks with great, long spoons. There are so many of them about, though, that even if I were to try and hide them I'd get nowhere." Mirth brightened the rider's features again, and he teased, "I imagine that your Apprentice could chase you with something much more sharp and unpleasant than a spoon or a broom either one, should you manage to get rid of that."
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